Clothes? Forget it. I'm colorblind and I really don't have the energy to care too much.
Food? I'm way happier with a good cheeseburger than I am with lobster. And a steak and baked potato takes too much energy. I want something that's ready to eat when it arrives.
Liquor? Cheap scotch and expensive beer, thank you very much.
Women? I found one good one and that's all that matters.
When the question turns to music, though, I like to think I have a discerning ear. I can be accused of being a rock snob at times, but to me it's a compliment.
There's just some music out there that's not worthy of my time.
Lately, though, I might be slipping into some habits that could get me stripped of my wings as a music critic.
Tired of the same stuff on the radio and the fact that my stupid car won't play burned CDs, I just scan the FM dial. If I find something I like, I stop. If I hear Rascal Flatts or Dave Matthews (or any of countless other artists I loathe), I keep scanning.
But what does it say about me that I will stop and sing every last word of Bobby Brown's "Don't Be Cruel"? While we're at it, who's even playing that song anymore? Didn't the new jack swing movement die two decades ago? Bobby isn't the fresh-faced kid from New Edition anymore, he's a middle-aged, drug-addled wife beater.
Please, Bobby, don't be cruel ... to yourself or Whitney.
I'm also not proud to have sung along to "You Give Love a Bad Name" or "Faith" or "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," but I'm guilty on every count.
That's not the worst of it, though. On Tuesday, Nicole, Miles and I went to dinner in Avon with her family. The dinner (ribs, which require no work on my part) was nice, but we couldn't dawdle in town. We had to -- had to -- be home by 10 so we wouldn't miss "The Voice."
I'd like to claim this is all my wife, but that would be untrue. The previews caught my eye a month or so ago. I liked the concept that the contestants were chosen based on a blind trial. It was about their voice, not looks or moves or anything else.
However, that was just the first two episodes. Now they're in the "Battle Round," where team members are pitted against one another and the coaches have the heart-wrenching experience of kicking off their own team members.
While this is still a unique concept, we're ultimately headed toward the final 16, where America has the chance to narrow the field and ultimately choose who gets a recording contract and a fat payday.
Sound familiar? To me, it sounds like a show I've been detesting since 2002. They even went so far as to get an idiot host who is famous for being famous.
I've spent so much time and energy detesting Kelly and Clay and Jordin and David (all of them) and Adam that I didn't realize I'd one day be hopelessly devoted to a lookalike show.
So I guess this is the end. I've killed the one piece of good taste I have.
But just so we can be clear, I'm with Cee Lo.